


The Big Flirt

by OldPingHai



Series: Mountainverse [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: In point of fact Sherlock is terrible at flirting, M/M, Sherlock Is Bad At Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldPingHai/pseuds/OldPingHai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. The mountaineer feels deprived because his expedition doctor never really flirted with him in the five hours it took for them to get together when they first met. Now Sherlock thinks it's time for John to make that up to  him!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Big Flirt

**Author's Note:**

> I estimate that this episode of Mountainverse takes place at some point during the first month after they met.
> 
> Thanks to my Britpicker, johnsarmylady, for many things, one of which is the name of a real pub in Holborn.

_Training Schedule recap:_  
20:00 — dinner  
21:00 — crap telly, snogging on couch, etc.  
22:00 — bed/sex  
06:00 — wake-up sex and/or shower sex

They were running a bit late when they left the restaurant. According to their training schedule it was the hour for them to be snogging in front of crap telly on the couch, one of their favourite times of the day. But instead of starting the mile-and-a-half walk from Holborn back to Baker Street, Sherlock turned to John and frowned. “You are a big flirt!” he said a bit accusingly.

“I was just being friendly,” John protested. “Anyway, have you looked in a mirror lately? It was you they were interested in.”

“Oh, please, John. Our waitress was hanging all over you, and when you flashed that adorable grin, a waiter from a completely different section came by to ask if there was anything you wanted. You never flirted like that with me when we first met,” Sherlock complained.

“And neither was I flirting with _them_ ,” John insisted. “In any case, I was on a job interview when we met. It would have been totally inappropriate for me to come on to you.”

“Considering my own behaviour that night, I cannot begin to comprehend why you thought that propriety would matter to me in the slightest. As you may recall, I brushed my fingers against yours every chance I got, and I practically invited you to take a shower with me. I certainly ran my eyes up and down your body enough times before you caught on.”

“Actually, I did flirt with you after the interview was over. As soon as I realised you were seriously interested, I pointed out to you that undressing me with your eyes was not nearly as easy as using your hands would be.”

“Yes…,” Sherlock smiled reminiscently, “and I admit that that worked quite well. But it was just one quick flirt.”

“That’s all I really need, because I’m very good at it,” John said rather smugly.

“Clearly so, if the effect you had on the staff at the restaurant is anything to go by,” Sherlock sulked. “It is unacceptable that you flirted with them more than you’ve ever flirted with me. I insist that you make it up to me immediately.” 

“Are you saying you want me to flirt with you _now_?” John wondered.

“Yes, why not?”

“It’s just that we’re already well past that stage,” John pointed out.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the main reason for flirting is to get someone into bed with you.”

“Wait — are you saying you wanted to sleep with those people you were flirting with at the restaurant?” Sherlock asked nervously.

“No! And I _wasn’t_ flirting! I was just being friendly! Believe me, if I really _had_ been flirting, you’d know it.”

“Then we shall turn back the clock to the day we met,” Sherlock said. “Because I want to see the difference. We will not have sex again until you have flirted with me as thoroughly as you flirted with the waiter and waitress this evening.” 

“Not that I was,” John sighed. “But you know this means that instead of going directly back to Baker Street, we’re going to have to head someplace right now where I can pick you up and then take you home, because all I could think about during dinner was being back in bed with you.”

“Then perhaps it was I with whom you should have been flirting,” Sherlock replied petulantly but hyper-grammatically. 

John rolled his eyes. “All right, here’s what we’ll do. We’re going to march right into the nearest pub. You will sit down at the bar and after a few minutes, I will come by and flirt the pants off you.” 

Sherlock nodded. “Deal.” 

They shook hands on it solemnly. Then Sherlock, who seemed to know every inch of London intimately, directed John to a nearby neighbourhood establishment called The Square Pig.

Sherlock strode into the pub, sat down at the bar, and made sure to chase away everyone who came anywhere near him. He even snapped at the barman, who was only trying to take his drink order. He had barely sampled his single malt Scotch when John walked up and offered him a warm smile. 

“Excuse me, is anyone sitting there?” John asked, indicating the empty bar stool to Sherlock’s left.

“Does it look like anyone is sitting there?”

John’s smile turned somewhat strained. “It’s just hard to believe that a bloke as _charming_ and handsome as you would be sitting here all by yourself,” he replied.

Sherlock stared at him. “Would you actually converse in such an inane way with a total stranger?”

John signaled to the barman, who came up to him with a friendly smile. Through gritted teeth, John said, “Get me a beer, please, and I’d like to buy _my new friend here_ another of whatever he’s having.” The barman nodded and went off to fill the order.

John turned to Sherlock. “This was your idea. The least you can do is meet me half-way, here,” he said mildly.

The drinks were deposited in front of them before Sherlock could reply, if indeed he had been intending to. Now he toyed with the new glass. “Are you plying me with drink in order to lure me to bed?” he asked almost coyly.

Relieved because Sherlock now seemed to be getting into the spirit of the thing, John replied lightly, “Would it be a problem to you if I was?” 

“Were.”

“What?”

“Would it be a problem if I were?” Sherlock repeated.

“If you were what, now?”

“I was pointing out that you should have used the past subjunctive form of the verb ‘to be’ because…”

“You know what, you’re pants at this,” John interrupted incredulously. “How did you ever manage to pull anyone?”

“I never bothered with flirting. I was only interested in getting off, and the sooner, the better.” 

John stared wide-eyed. “So what did you say when you wanted…that?”

Sherlock lowered his voice to a range somewhere between melted chocolate and crushed velvet. “How would you like to worship my cock with your tongue for the next hour or so?”

John swallowed thickly. “Yes, all right; I can see how that might work,” he admitted, resolutely ignoring the interested twitch in his pants. 

Sherlock smirked. “I can see it’s working on you right now. But the point here is not for me to seduce you. It is for you to flirt me into bed.”

John tried to pull himself together and think of something clever, and yes, flirty; but apparently Sherlock’s pickup line had diverted a little too much blood from his brain. He blurted out the only thing he could come up with: “So, tell me something about yourself.”

Sherlock gave him a slightly disbelieving look, but answered readily enough. “I am a professional mountaineer and classically trained violinist who also happens to be an expert at singlestick.”

Now, there was something John could grab onto (no pun intended). “I hope ‘singlestick’ is a euphemism?” he replied suggestively.

“It is not. You asked me to tell you something about myself, and I was just saying that I am an expert in the art of singlestick self-defense.”

The barman, who had been standing nearby while polishing the exact same spot on the counter for the past few minutes, now reached over and touched John’s wrist. John looked up, startled.

“You must really have it bad to keep trying with this berk. I’ll tell you what, he may be too dense to know what’s right in front of him, but I’m not. My name is Dan, and I get off work in an hour if you want to wait.”

Sherlock stood so abruptly that everyone seated at the bar jumped. He threw down a tenner next to his drinks, grabbed John, and dragged him toward the exit. When John attempted to wave a polite goodbye to the barman, Sherlock threw an arm around him so tightly that he actually let out a surprised squeak. Sherlock glared daggers over his shoulder at the man behind the bar all the way out the door.

“That man came on to you while you were clearly attempting to get off with me. I should complain to the management,” Sherlock fumed once they reached the pavement. 

John struggled not to laugh in the face of Sherlock’s indignation. They hadn’t known each other long, but John had figured out quite early on that Sherlock possessed a very easily bruised ego.

“And you managed to seduce him without even trying!” Sherlock continued in an aggrieved tone.

“Not my fault…we could have been in and out of there in 5 minutes if you had any idea of how to behave in public!” John smiled. “I don’t think I ever had to work so hard to pull anyone in my life.”

“It serves you right for assuming that I’d be easy.” Sherlock tried to keep a straight face, but failed when John burst into infectious giggles. 

“Well, we missed our snogging hour and it’s now past our scheduled bedtime,” John said, checking his watch. “Unless we want to risk losing our time on the rock climbing wall tomorrow, we should get home fast. How about working some of your magic to rustle us up a cab from out of nowhere?”

A cab turned the corner and cruised toward them. Sherlock smiled and stuck out a hand.

**~~~///~~~**

Once in the front door to 221B they pounded up the stairs and thundered through the flat on the way to their bedroom sounding like a herd of elephants. Quite soon, the occasional tenor “Oh God, yes!” filtered out of the room. There was also a litany made up solely of John’s name voiced in a silky baritone.

(Downstairs, Mrs. Hudson listened for a bit before reluctantly deciding to mind her own business by turning up the sound on the telly.)

Much later, curled up deep under the covers with Sherlock, John said, “I hope you’re satisfied now.”

“Extremely,” Sherlock assured him.

“Good. Because we’re never doing that again.”

“The sex or the flirting?” Sherlock asked.

“Ha bloody ha,” John said, and holding each other tightly, the two men settled down to sleep.

All was quiet in the bedroom for a few minutes, and indeed, Sherlock had nearly drifted completely off when he was roused by John’s voice.

“Sherlock?”

“Hmm?”

“What the hell is singlestick?”

**Author's Note:**

> Earlier this week there was a cartoon on tumblr. It showed John looking with great interest at someone behind him. He is waggling his fingers goodbye as Sherlock insistently tugs him away. Next panel, Sherlock puts an arm around John's shoulders as he moves him along. Final panel, Sherlock is practically squeezing John to death and glaring back over his shoulder at whoever John had been interested in. The artist is flyingrotten, and the cartoon is absolutely adorable. It happened to fit a situation in this story perfectly, so I added it in at the last minute. Flyingrotten has given me permission to link to her strip: http://flyingrotten.tumblr.com/post/109707963973


End file.
